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Jenever's Quest for a Sword

Just over the hill, she knew, there would be a temple. And the heart of its mystery was ... a sword.

Her blood, singing in her veins, told her that to be worthy, a sword must be won, not simply taken.

Part of her was not certain she wanted to give Bleys a special weapon, but there was that deep within her that was unwilling to offer her progenitor a less than worthy sword.

So she continued on toward the temple, absently shifting her clothing to red leather as she went.

As she approached, she began to observe the bones of men - and perhaps a few women - scattered on the desert floor. Some of them wore armour - leather (sometimes rotted) or even metal. Some were unprotected.

But none of them bore swords.

Jenever wondered, reaching up for the reassuring weight of her crystal, if any of them bore Plantaxy... or the blood of Bleys...

And she continued onward.

The temple was tall and elegant, with high, fluting columns in white stone. Nearby stood a tall hedge - it looked like the entance to a maze. Within the temples there appeared to be an area of mist and shadow, but seated before it was an old man in a white robe.

Jenever approached the old man, coming to stand before him. She inclined her head, a gesture of respect between equals, but she did not bow. "I am Jenever dan Bleys, Empress and Warlord of S'jaiteh that was," she said. "I have come for the sword."

"To gain the sword," said the old man, "you must walk the maze - and answer the riddle that lies at its heart."

Jenever smiled. A test of both mind and body. Good.

Wordlessly, she turned and entered the maze.

From the first step, something in her blood seemed to call out to her. She knew this maze! Its every twist and turn was seared into her soul ...

And yet ... surely it was different? This was a pathway between low, sweet-smelling hedges. To step aside meant embarrassment, not death.

Or ... did it?

Jenever was confused and yet strangely exhilarated. She did not know what it meant that she knew that maze in her blood - and yet it seemed to strengthen her that she did... She continued on, letting that part deep inside her which understood this place lead her.

She was laughing.

The path twist and wound ... but soon she came to something unexpected. It looked like a wall - a clear wall.

It was only as she came very close that she realised it was cold - a wall of unmelting, unchanging ice.

Jenever wrapped her hand in a piece of her cloak and laid it against the wall of ice. Once satisfied that touching this thing was not going to sap her energy or fuse her inside the ice wall she concentrated on her plantaxy stone and her palm seemed to catch fire - a white fire that quickly incinerated the fabric around her hand...

And burnt on, melting the ice. Slowly a hole formed, growing larger ... larger ... and then she was able to step through, getting only a little damp at the edges. Along the curves and swirls of the maze between the scented hedges; it was really quite pleasant. Until, that was, she turned the corner and came face to face with the wall of fire.

Jenever stopped dead, regarding the firewall with a sour expression. "Should have made Mr. I-Know-All-Elementals get his own damn sword," she muttered. If she tried to blow the fire out with a gust of wind, she'd likely only scatter it and end up burning down the hedges.

She looked up, wondering if there was any rule that stated she had to stay within the maze at all times...

Seeing the hedges curve closed above her, and the strange phenomenon of fire-resistant hedges, she shrugged and tried to raise a strong enough wind, aimed at the base of the flames, to create an opening she might step through.

It is a little enough wind ... little more than a strong breeze - but it was enough to part the flames slightly. Not a Jenever-shaped gap - but if she was careful, she could pass through with only minor singeing ...

Jenever was more worried about the apparent dampening of her powers than she was about the few minor burns and singed clothing she received from slipping through the wall of fire. She had intended to make a much more powerful wind than she had managed to raise, and this was only the second obstacle. It did not bode well.

Nonetheless, she continued on.

Surprisingly, perhaps, the burns she caught appeared to be minor. She expected at least the fringes of her hair to singe ... but instead they seemed to catch a strange sort of rainbow light, bathing her in its glow as she continued ...

A third arch was coming up. At first, as she approached, she thought it was ice again, or glass. Then she saw the crystalline glitter and realised.

It was a wall of plantaxy.

Jenever swore. She was not Opal, she hadn't the faintest, foggiest idea what to do with this. If she tried to put her consciousness in it, she would most likely never return...

And yet she had been inside Bleys and had returned...

And what other choice was there? To touch was dangerous and her strength, great though it was, might not be a match for the hardness of this stone... this wall wouldn't burn or blow over...

She ought to go back, find a different sword for Bleys. It was foolish to risk her existence for so little a thing when the world stood in jeopardy. She knew all this.

And yet...

This was Jenever. She had never backed from a challenge in her life.

The first thing to try was the hardness of the crystal. She wrapped her fist in fabric again and punched the wall as hard as she could.

It sang back at her - a song of love, and longing. It promised her power and strength unlimited if she just stepped forward and gave herself up to the plantaxy, allowed herself to merge ... to become one with the plantaxy ...

But a small part of her mind also told her that the wall quivered a little under her blow.

She was swayed for a moment, tempted even though she knew it was glitter without substance. No one had offered her anything in a long time... Not since Mandor really and Caine had put an end to that...

Then she hardened, set her mind to the task at hand and tried to drown out the sound of the singing. She punched the wall again.

It shivered - more. And voices welled up, singing urgently, inviting her, cajoling her, pleading with her - to join them. To slip into the plantaxy.

It was the idea of love that appealed to her, not the idea of rest, or comraderie, and the shifting song now seemed to Jenever to hold a hint of desperation. Her mind remained hardened, and she continued to pound on the crystal, bruising her hand and bloodying her knuckles even through their cloth cover.

And suddenly the glass shattered. It remained for her to step through the hole she had crated, avoiding being stabbed my myriad shards of plantaxy. For if they entered her blood ...

Jenever shuddered at the thought. She wasn't quite certain what that would do, but had the feeling it would be highly unpleasant... Possibly she would end up as Bleys had been when she and Genna had found him.

She wrapped herself in the vestiges of her cloak and very carefully, with the slowest, most complete precision, maneuvered through the broken wall of crystal, trying her hardest to avoid being cut.

She forced her way through without cuts, although she felt the shards prick her flesh as she stepped through ...

Then she was standing in an open section, the centre of the maze. And at the very heart of it was a flight of steps, leading deep within the earth.

Jenever took a deep breath and descended, cautiously, ready for a trap - or an attack...

The stairs led down into the depths of the earth, cool and a little damp. Torches burned on the walls, but there was no sensation of danger ...

But soon she realised she had moved out of the tunnel and into a small circular cave with rough hewn rock walls. It was an ancient shrine - in such a place did the Sibyls of Shadow Earth light their tripods, inhale the sacred fumes, and then speak wonderful and strange prophecies.

Indeed, looking around, Jenever saw a sacred tripod ... but it had been kicked over on one side ... its load of incense scattered on the floor. Yet a faint, heavy scent hung redolent in the confined air of the shrine. A small spring broke from the rock walls and splashed its way down into a shallow rock hewn basin at about waist height ...

Kneeling before this was a figure ... red curls unbound and tumbling to her waist, dressed in the simple white dress of a Temple priestess, with a simple circlet of gold around her head. Her arms and feet were bare ... Jenever could see the dusty soles of her feet.

She was kneeling in front of the basin ... her arms were resting on its rim and her head was on one side, pillowed on her left forearm. She appeared totally unaware of Jenever's presence. Instead she reached out one hand and trailed it musingly in the icy cold spring water that had gathered in the bowl. Her eyes appeared fixed on the little underground waterfall of the spring.

To the far side of the cave was another tunnel - and Jenever could see steps in that leading upwards - from their position, probably into the temple itself.

Jenever cleared her throat loudly. "I have come through the maze," she announced in her cool, regal voice. "Is that which I seek here, or further on within the temple?"

The woman turned her face towards her - a stranger - and yet atavistically familiar. A faint memory of Dot ...

A clone of Fiona? Or Fiona herself

"What do you seek, stranger, that you disturb me thus?" she asked, her voice warm, melodious.

"The old man at the temple entrance said there was a sword here at the center of the maze," said Jenever, ignoring the woman's resemblance to Fiona. "It is now mine by right of blood and quest. I have come for it."

"How very direct you are," said the woman. She blinked, and the slightly dazed look in her eyes faded. "One would think from your appearance that you were one of my brother's but they tend to be more ... subtle. Still. He has experimented over the years ...

"But if a sword is all you want ... " She indicated the stairs on the opposite side of the cavern vagurly. "The temple is that way."

Jenever laughed. "If a sword is all I want?... Surely no clone of your brother's could make that claim. You've changed a good deal since the Mountains of the Moon. I hardly recognized you. And your memory seems to have gone with it. All the same... I will continue my direct approach, as I have no time for subtlety. What else, if anything, can you offer me here?"

The woman smiled. "What else, if anything, do you want?" she countered.

"I want it all," Jenever said, and she was completely serious. Her usually cold eyes held a hint of fire. "I want everything. I want the Universe to survive, and to be repaired, and then I want to be Queen over it. All shall love me and despair." She walked over to the water and gazed out over it, her expression lost. "But that is a long way away and so much stands in my way... The Hunter, the Lady, others... You and your brother... the plantaxy overall... So since I doubt you can give me either love or dominion, I will continue on for my sword. I think the time for games long past."

She turned away, but hesitated, hoping that Fiona would offer her more.

"And what," said the Sorceress so softly that had Jenever moved further away she would not have heard, "is the price you are willing to pay for such power?"

Jenever did not turn and her response was equally quiet. "There is only one price too high for achieving that dream and that is the safety and future of the universe I want to rule. I will not jeopardize that."

"It will be your universe," said the Sorceress. "Why should we want to damage that - or its future? Providing you accept our aid and guidance, of course. Not entirely what you might wish, of course. But surely better than being part of the motley crew that is the Resistance?"

"That depends," said Jenever slowly, "on a fair number of factors, does it not?"

She turned and fixed the Sorceress' green eyes with her icy grey ones. "First, they have a plan to halt the growth of plantaxy. Can you say as much? Second, they may be easier to manipulate and control than you and Bleys. And third, while they have shown me very little trust and respect, you have shown me as little interest. Why the sudden desire to be partners now? It is not that your offer does not interest me.... oh, it does.... and I think I can believe that you at least would be content with power behind the throne... but what would you ask in return? What would I have to do for you?"

"That depends," said the Sorceress, "on what you are offering to do. I don't believe in blind bargains - at least, not when I am the one who is blind."

"Mmm." Jenever cocked her head to one side, considering the other woman. "But so far I've told you a good deal more than you've told me. I've told you what I want, what I'd do for what I want, even my reservations about your aid. You've told me nothing. Shall we play this the old fashioned way, the way that Caine and Mandor play? Direct question and answer? The answer to your question is this: I'm not offering to do anything, but I am willing to do much. What do you want?"

"To make sure the one that walks Corwin's Pattern is Seth's daughter Elaine," said the Sorceress. "There - is that so very hard?"

"Hard?" Jenever shook her head. "It might be. I don't know who the Resistance intends to do the walking - they don't keep me very well informed. But I do see one flaw in it - me. Why would I want to give this girl I do not know all that power? How does it come back to me in the end?"

"We believe that the odds are high that she will die in walking the Pattern," said the Sorcoress, her eyes steady on Jenever, If she does not ... then you may choose to kill her if you wish. We shall not stop you."

"But the power to be gained... the reason you wish her to do this rather than another - it has to do with why Brand wanted to create his own Pattern, does it not? So dead or alive, her power will remain." Jenever tested the edge of her front teeth with her tongue. "Oh, forgive me. It was meant to be your turn for a question."

The Sorceress smiled.

"The answer is simple. Merlin is no longer capable of walking the Pattern - his mind was shattered with the shards of plantaxy in Ultima. And Seth ... is too dangerous. In many ways like a boy who borrows his father's gun and shoots his little playmates dead because he knows no better.

"No, Elaine or her twin are the best people to walk the Pattern from our perspective. And we control Elaine."

"All right," said Jenever. "But it will be a straight trade - a thing for a thing. I'll see Elaine walks that Pattern when you give me something definite I want - control of the new universe is too tenuous - too many things can go wrong before it happens. We'll start with something small: I want Flora dead. She's imprisoned me, humiliated me, and killed a man who loved me - a man I loved as much as such a thing is possible. You help me with my revenge, and I'll get the girl you control on the Pattern in Gramerye. Deal?"

She extended her hand.

The Sorceress extended her hand in reply.

"Oh, we can do better than that. We can give her to you so you can kill her yourself. Deal?"

Jenever smiled, but it was not her pretty smile. She took the offered hand. "That, Princess, is a deal. And now I'd best get your brother his sword, so I can have my own back."

The Sorceress stepped aside, allowing Jenever to ascend the steps to the temple ...

After a few moments, a grey mist began to fill the stairway, and Jenever had a sense of moving through a vast open space, steadily ascending.

Jenever moved on, summoning a faint will o'the wisp which glowed a cold white, in an attempt to see ahead of her in the mist.

She continued upwards.

And then, through the mist, she heard the confident steps of someone descending.

"Stand and declare yourself!" Jenever's cold voice rang through the chill air. The light, which had been mostly useless, disappeared.

But her voice sounded more distant than he would have expected it to be from the steps. And for Jenever, the mist around her seemed to thicken and coalesce into the shape of a person, reaching out towards her with thick, almost square, grabbing hands.

Knowing that still it could be a trap, Blake stood still, silent, and merely intensified the winds to blow away the confounding mist...

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